“Plasma-yield weapons are just making it out of the testing facilities and into field testing,” Freeman went on. “They kill and destroy with much greater effectiveness than any other kind of weapon ever devised. They use a small nuclear explosion to generate tremendous amounts of plasma energy — heat so intense that it instantly vaporizes anything it touches. The effect is devastating — targets don’t just blow up, they
“What do you mean, vanish? Like a space ray or something? Like a
“Exactly,” Freeman said. “Matter is turned into plasma energy, which cannot be sensed by humans — the target vanishes.”
“Talk about politically unpopular!”
“The weapon has many advantages and many disadvantages,” Freeman went on. “It works poorly in the atmosphere. It is horrendously expensive. But a plasma-yield detonation causes no blast effects — no overpressure, no heat, not even much noise, and the size of the blast can be electronically limited and controlled to a great extent. Both weapons are in short supply, but they represent a way to respond to greater threats without resorting to full-yield nuclear weapons.”
The Vice President shook her head. “I’m not sure I like where this discussion is going, Mr. President,” she said. “We’re planning on deploying nuclear weapons again? And these Buck Rogers weapons sound like political suicide — the spies and saboteurs will be fighting with the protesters for access to the labs and bases where we keep these things. Isn’t there any other alternative?”
“Yes, there is. It’s called peace,” the President said. “As long as everyone involved agrees to stay calm and not overreact to a situation, we might be able to get through this without having to resort to special weapons. I hope — we all hope — for this best resolution. But we need to plan for the worst.” He looked at Freeman and nodded. “Let’s get Defense and the boys from Dreamland in here, Philip. We need to get something set up right away, before somebody goes and does something stupid.”
The very first indication of danger was a tiny yellow flashing light that could have been missed in the huge array of other lights and indicators on the panel. But the controllers on duty — all Korean now, with no Americans at all — were attentive, and one of them noticed the indicator immediately, as if expecting it.
One press of a button, and the computer display at the controller’s station changed to a pictorial depiction of the detection, plus radar data on the new track. It took only seconds for the controller to study the data and determine what it was. He hit a yellow ATTENTION button, which flashed a warning at all controllers’ stations and connected his mike to them. “All stations, all stations, sector seven reports many inbound radar tracks, southbound courses, altitude and speed increasing. Verification protocols in progress, all stations stand by.”
The next step took only seconds as well; a second radar array was tasked to cross-check the first radar’s information. Once the two systems verified each other’s information, identification was positive. The controller hit a red WARNING button, which illuminated red flashing lights throughout the entire complex and put the controller’s microphone on Hot Call, which overrode all other communications in the MCRC. “All stations, all stations, missile warning, missile warning in sector seven. Multiple inbound tracks verified and confirmed. All stations, go to threat condition red.” At the same moment, his track data was displayed up on one of the electronic screens in the front of the command center so the other controllers and on-duty commanders could study it.
“Projected targets?” asked the commander, UROK Air Force Chief of Staff Lieutenant General Park Yom. He had been on duty at the Osan MCRC ever since the visit by the American Vice President, when the attacks on North Korea and the transition to reunification began. He had not seen the light of day since that fateful morning. But he didn’t care. The citizens were celebrating above, but Korea was still in danger.
“One… no, two tracks on Seoul,” the controller said. “Possibly one of those targeting Inchon. One track on Kunsan, one on Pusan. One track… sir, one track heading out over the Sea of Japan, target Japan.”
“Payback for Japan’s assistance in the revolution, no doubt,” General Park said. “Do we have an origin yet? Do we know where these missiles came from?”
“Very confusing tracks, sir,” the controller responded. “The track aimed at Seoul is a very low-altitude ballistic profile. Same for the one aimed at Inchon.”
“Are you saying that they came from somewhere on the Korean peninsula?”
“Affirmative, sir. We are processing a possible launch point now.”
“It should have been computed by now. Get on it.” The secure phone rang at Park’s station. “General Park.”
“This is the president, General,” Kwon Ki-chae said. “What is happening? The air raid sirens have gone off.” Air raid and poison gas sirens were as much a part of life in Korea as
“Have you taken cover, sir?”
“Yes. I’m crowded into the subway terminal at Seoul National University, along with about five thousand others,” Kwon replied. “I may die of asphyxiation or be trampled before I die of an attack. What is happening?”
“We show two inbound on the capital,” Park said. “Kunsan and Pusan are also targeted. In addition, one missile is headed for Japan.”
“Oh, no,” Kwon said. He was silent for a moment, then said, “It appears they are still aiming for military targets, does it not?”
“Yes, sir. Except for Pusan.”
“Where did the missiles come from? I want the origins bombarded immediately.”
“The origin of at least some of the missiles appear to be inside the peninsula,” Park said. “We suspect Communist mobile missiles. Stand by… Sir, we have indications of successful intercepts over Seoul… Sir, we have reports of one Vx toxin warhead impact on the outskirts of Kunsan.”
“Any casualty reports?”
“No, sir,” Park replied. “Not yet. But the industrial facilities would most likely be on the graveyard shift. Perhaps a few thousand casualties, maybe less if the population made it to shelters in time. And as you know, most of our population — North and South — is well trained in the use of gas masks and chemical exposure suits. However, there were a great many refugees being housed at the military facilities there, and we do not know whether they were similarly equipped.”
“Where are those missiles coming from, dammit?”
“We have points of origin on the missile aimed at Japan, sir,” Park said, reading from one of his computer monitors. “The launch point is in southern Yang-gang Do province, near Toandonggu. Since it is probably a rail- mobile missile, we will concentrate our search along the rail lines.”
“No chance that missile came from China?”
“Unlikely, sir. Same for the others. Their trajectory is too low for such short range… One moment, sir… Sir, we are receiving reports of a chemical weapons detonation three kilometers northeast of Tonghae. Estimate a Vx nerve gas attack.”
“From the north, sir… Sir, the release may have hit well east of the Kyejwan Mountains,” Park went on, trying not to distract himself with the enormity of the death and destruction in one of his country’s most beautiful cities. “The mountains may have protected Pusan from serious damage.” Most of Pusan was located inside a mountainous bowl — the name “Pusan” means “cauldron”—and it was possible that the mountains, some rising as high as three thousand feet, might have diverted the deadly nerve toxins. But if they blew in and settled past the mountains, they would be trapped inside the bowl and their effects would linger.
“Casualty estimates there?” But the president already knew the answer. Pusan had a population of about four million; the Tonghae district, about a quarter of a million.
Kwon Ki-chae felt the fury rise in his throat. It was very probably a miss, but targeting Pusan was an attack not against Korea’s military or government, but against its economic center. Pusan was an international port city, like San Francisco or Rio de Janeiro, situated on a natural and beautiful harbor. Preferred as an international port of
